


Outside the dawn is breaking, but inside in the dark I'm aching to be free

by missafairy



Series: The show must go on [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Drinking, Drunk Driving, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23005237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missafairy/pseuds/missafairy
Summary: Angsty fic set in an alternate universe. Dean is struggling and hides it from you/reader. Based on the lines of Queen's The show must go on that are in the title. I think it's better than the summary ;)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Series: The show must go on [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662526
Kudos: 9





	Outside the dawn is breaking, but inside in the dark I'm aching to be free

**Author's Note:**

> Written for deanwanddamons' 500 follower challenge.  
> Read the tags! :)

The strong alcohol burning his throat made him feel a little bit more alive. Taking another sip straight from the bottle, Dean closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth spreading through his body. It was late afternoon and he was sitting on the dirt, in a forest near the main road, drinking whisky instead of being with you. With the woman who was his whole world. 

The thought of you - his trusting, sweet girl - made his eyes fill up with tears. Hating himself for not being with you, he closed his eyes, letting those tears wet his cheeks. He thought of what he would give to feel something more than this hatred again. 

Everything. Everything was the only answer he could come up with. At first he thought he could handle this. After losing his mother- an event that resulted in a crappy childhood - losing his abusive and mostly absent father wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. 

After years of living in a filthy basement, after years of stealing food for his hungry little brother came time to steal clothes so that Sammy wouldn’t look like a homeless boy, then steal wallets and purses to buy school books. He had never felt the anticipated relief when he looked at his father’s grave. Still grieving, not really understanding why he was missing his father so much, Dean found a backbreaking job in a garage, barely able to walk back home after work. But then things changed a little bit. 

Sammy graduated college, got engaged… Every single day of Dean’s miserable life was worth living to see his brother so happy. Or was it? Now Sam barely stayed in touch with him, calling only when he needed a dog sitter. But at some point in his life he met her.

Cursing himself for not being able to get up from the cold, wet ground, he let out a shattered breath. He needed to go home, he needed to pull himself together. Dean bit on the sleeve of his jacket trying to muffle the terrible scream that came out of his mouth. Tears were falling freely down his face, the whisky bottle was shaking in his grip. He had shouted for a long while, until he felt slightly less overwhelmed with his emotions. Exhausted, he managed to crawl back to his car. He drove home, sober enough to stay between the white lines. He sat in his car parked in the driveway for a short while, looking at their home.

The fence was rickety, so was the door and the roof. Walls definitely needed painting. Shaking his head, Dean worked up the courage to go home to you - his beautiful, perfect woman who was oblivious to how broken he really was.

“Hey,” he shouted when he closed the door behind him. “I’m home!”

“Hi, baby!” you greeted him, getting up from the couch. “How was your interview?” you asked.

“It went okay, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up about it,” he told you, letting you hug him.

“It’ll be okay,” you said, wrapping your arms around him.

Resting his head on top of yours he clenched his jaw, but you didn’t feel it. You had no idea that this interview was a lie. Like the previous two interviews. No one was hiring, not in the town, not in the suburbs, not in the closest big city. He had told you he had a job interview, but in fact he was just walking from business to business begging people to hire him for even less than minimum wage. He was laughed at and thrown out of a few. Squeezing you in his arms, pulling you closer to him, Dean kissed the top of your head, then again and again.

“I love you,” he whispered into your ear and with the corner of his eye he could see you smile. He felt like it was the only true sentence you heard from him these days.

“I love you too,” you said, pulling away to look at him. “Have you been drinking?”

You watched him carefully, your big, honest eyes looking deep into his. Dean knew you must have smelled the alcohol in his breath.

“Ah, yeah, I went to a bar with Benny, we had a quick drink,” Dean lied easily, disgusted with himself.

“And you drove here?” You asked softly, clearly worried, running your hand through his messy hair.

“It was just one drink,” he lied again.

“Alright,” you sighed, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Did you buy the chocolate for me?” you asked and it was Dean’s turn to sigh now. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, letting you know that he had forgotten.

“I’m sorry, it slipped my mind,” he muttered. “I’ll go get you one,” he offered and took a few steps towards the door.

“No, no,” you opposed quickly. “You’re not driving today! You smell like a distillery! If I hadn’t known you better I would have thought you took a bath in liquor,” you said and instead of the numbness he craved so much, Dean felt the overwhelming guilt.

He hated lying to you, but no matter how many times he tried to change that, something shitty happened and he couldn’t bring himself to tell you the truth. His father’s words of him being a disappointment had been ringing in his ears since he was six years old. He couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing you. That’s why he was putting up this act. That’s why he would never admit to making a mistake, never confess the thoughts that were eating him alive. That was why he lied about having lost a job a week ago due to his boss’ financial problems when the truth was that he had been unemployed for over a month now because he showed up drunk at work. He just couldn’t disappoint you. So he smiled.

“Alright,” he said. “I won’t forget about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, walking up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You would have told me if something was wrong, right?” you asked carefully, knowing you were close to hitting the nerve. According to Dean everything was always okay.

“Of course,” Dean said without blinking. His crappy life has made him an excellent liar and for the most part of it, Dean thought it was his only talent. “Why would anything be wrong sweetheart?” He asked, pulling you against his chest so that you wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

It hurt him too much when you looked at him like this. Dean found it funny that he was so numb all the time when it came to the good emotions, the ones that he wanted to feel again like serenity, joy, amusement, hope, but he could feel every single negative emotion. He could feel the physical pain they caused him.

“I don’t know, you just seem a little upset about losing your job…” you muttered into his chest.

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, savouring the feeling of your warm body being pressed against his. “I promised you I will find a job soon, okay? Someone will call back,” he assured you, stroking your back gently.

“I know,” you whispered. “And that’s exactly why I don’t want you to worry,” you told him.

“I’m fine,” he said firmly, burying his nose in your hair. “I’m all good,” he said, staring blankly at the floor.

A little over a week later, Dean was looking at you from a holding cell at the police precinct. His bloody fingers were squeezed around the bars, the pressure making the blood drip freely. He could feel a strong, dull ache in his knuckles and tried to focus on it to keep himself from panicking. 

You were waiting by the police officer’s desk, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read. The officer was walking towards the cell and Dean let go of the bars, still looking at you. Disappointment. He thought that was what he was to you. His worst nightmare came to life. He decoded the look on your face or at least he thought he did. You must have been disappointed with him. How could you not be? 

He had been drunk and arrested for a bar brawl. And you had just spent more money than you could spare on getting him out. The cell door opened and Dean’s eyes averted from you.

“Winchester,” the officer hissed and Dean slowly walked out of the cell. “You’re out on bail, I’ve already explained everything to your girlfriend,” he said and Dean nodded. “We just need your signature here,” Dean signed the given paper mindlessly, not paying much attention to the man.

He was afraid of facing you. He hadn’t been so scared since his father died. The nausea was making him dizzy; he was sure it wasn’t the alcohol, not after spending all night in jail, having a chance to sober up.

“Hi,” he heard you say and he gulped, looking at the floor.

“Hi,” he muttered, unable to look at you.

“Do you need to see a doctor?” you asked fearfully, having trouble recognizing his face. With shaking hands you gave him a bottle of water which he accepted thankfully.

“No, I’ve already had one examine me,” he told you. “You know, you should see the other guy,” Dean smirked, tring to ease the tension.

“Dean, it’s not funny!” You almost shouted. “Do you have any idea how scared I was?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to do. He wanted to hold you against him, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo, but he was too ashamed to ask. “I’m really sorry, sweetheart,” he gasped.

“I know you are… and uh-” you sighed. “Don’t you think you’re out of control lately?”

“What? No!” he opposed.

“If you don’t want to talk to me, it’s okay, but talk to someone!” You begged him, desperately trying to help him. You trusted Dean and you thought he would never lie to you, but deep inside you knew you might be wrong.

Dean shook his head, overwhelmed by the emotions boiling inside him, but he had to go on with the show. He couldn’t let you know how he really felt. He couldn’t let you know that the range of different emotions was pulling him down. Looking as calm as ever he softly touched your cheek.

“I will, if that’s what you want,” he promised and you nodded. “I’ll do anything for you,” he said.

“I don’t want everything, Dean,” you told him, tears blurring your vision a bit. You were standing with Dean in front of the precinct, staring helplessly at him. “I just want you to be okay,” you said, oblivious to the fact that you made his heart shatter into thousands of pieces.

Because he wasn’t okay. And he thought he could never be okay. And this was the only thing you wanted, you wanted the only thing he couldn’t give you. You looked at him, his soft smile could deceive the devil himself.

“I can do that,” he said, his grin getting wider as you smiled at him, thinking you made him feel better. “I will never disappoint you again,” he whispered, pulling you against him.

He knew that if you left he wouldn’t be able to find the will to carry on. That was why he desperately tried to do and say anything just to please you, so that you wouldn’t leave, but it was also the reason why he kept pushing you away, why he couldn’t let you know how he truly felt. That’s why a part of him was aching to be free from you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
